SAVING SAMMY
by Chick Feed
Summary: While Sam sleeps, Dean tries to deal with his current feelings towards his brother and the results of his latest well intentioned actions. He finds himself considering the years since their dad died and wondering: Has he actually managed to "save" his little brother yet? Three chapter tag to S10 Ep 21. Please read warning inside. ADDED BONUS - below end of C3 - Season 11 Preview!
1. Chapter 1

**_Spoiler Alert_** ** _:_** S10 from Ep21 with brief references to events in prior seasons.  
Disclaimer : I'm prepared to play "Killer Snap" with Mr Kripke for ownership! ;p

Warning! _This Sam is the one portrayed by the writers in the spoiler eps  
_ _(You know, the dumb one that don't listen, gets folk killed & still carries on __\- clearly not the "real" Sam - Must be a shape shifter)_

Let me clarify right here that although I'm a Dean girl,  
I love Sam too, but I don't like _this_ version of him!

 **SAVING SAMMY**

 **(Tag to Season 10 Episode 21)  
** _While Sam sleeps, Dean tries to deal with his current feelings_ _towards his brother and the results of Sam's latest well intentioned actions.  
_ _He finds himself considering the years since their dad died_ _and wondering: Has he_ _actually_ _managed to "save" his_ _little_ _brother yet?_

ONE  
-o-

Wanting to ensure they separated themselves from the scene of the crime, Dean drove on, until he felt he had put a safe distance between that place and themselves. He refused to go back to the bunker, wanting some privacy, not wanting to encourage any type of distraction diverting them away from the soul wrenching duty that he needed, (wanted), to fulfil. Eventually, he found the kind of place he was looking for, booking them into a small and off the beaten track, motel where he hoped they and their precious cargo would be safe.

Throughout the drive, restrained words were passed back and forth regarding Dean's immediate plan; the short conversations were stilted, uncomfortable. Dean booked accommodation with two bedrooms, a twin and a single. Opening the door, he inspected the single. The room, like the rest of the place, was clean and had no offensive odour, making it already high ranking when compared to most of the motels they stayed in. The furnishings were pleasantly simple, toning in well with the clean, neutral colour scheme. Happy with what he saw, Dean vaguely wished he had something that could add just a flash of colour. Walking back out of the room, he spotted what he was looking for sitting at the centre of a small circular dining table. Sam hung back and watched as Dean picked up the plain glass vase of deep blue silk cornflowers and returned to the single room with it, setting the vase down carefully on top of the bedside cabinet, then turning and shuffling it around a little, until he seemed happy with it's position.

Heading back outside to where he had parked the Impala in front of the room, Sam made to follow. Dean stopped long enough to briefly glance back at his brother.

"No need. I'll manage."

Dean returned with a tartan blanket grabbed from out of the car and proceeded to spread it neatly over the top of the queen sized bed. That done, he again went out to the Impala, having turned down Sam's offer of help a second time.

This time he returned baring a body, carried bridal style. Stood by the bedroom door, Sam turned his head away as Dean passed him. Going to the queen sized bed, he gently laid the silent occupant of the single room down on top of it.

"Bring a sheet off my bed."

Sam quietly did as instructed.

Using the sheet to cover the body, Dean finally stepped back. At the opposite side of the bed, Sam looked as though he were about to be physically sick, as the clean white sheet slowly began to pepper with small blood stains where it touched against any areas on the body where the blood was not quite completely dried. Dean didn't offer his brother any sympathy, primarily because right then, he couldn't feel any. Instead, he had walked out of the room and into the bathroom to shower.

Afterwards, he volunteered to fetch food for them both, then swallowed down a couple of oddly tasteless beers in an attempt to wash down his equally tasteless food. The two of them had spent a couple of hours sat side by side on Dean's bed, Dean making no comment as Sam worked his way down a half bottle of Bourbon. Instead he had pretended to lose himself in whatever crappy movie had been playing. If Sam had asked, Dean wouldn't have been able to recall a damn thing about it. Yes, he'd been looking in the right direction, but he hadn't actually given the TV screen even the occasional fleeting second of his attention. Everything had felt like it was carrying on around him, whilst he unconsciously flew alongside on automatic pilot, accompanied by a background tune that was little more than indistinct and muffled sounds. And throughout, Sammy had been unnervingly cautious around him. Whenever Sam _did_ speak his words, (whatever they had been; it was a trial to remember), were spoken so softly they were almost a whisper. He had noticed that when he was in range, Sam's hand had lifted frequently, but Sam always stopped short of making physical contact. Sam had made no comment either when Dean had presented him with a supper consisting of an unappetizing, tepid and slick with grease, burger. (Or was it a rubbery cheesed, greasy-assed pizza? Whatever. It didn't matter). Dean _did_ recall being aware of the warmth of his brother's body alongside his own when they sat close together during the movie. His brother's warmth had acted as something real and comforting. So much so that at some point Dean had found himself tempted to take refuge in it, to snuggle. ( _Holy_ _Hell_!). He had been feeling a kind of external numbness, and a desolate type of chill on the inside. Drawn to the heat, Dean had already unconsciously leaned further into Sammy's side, and that's when it had happened. He had suddenly found himself in a battle to resist the unwanted and unfamiliar, (an' friggin' unmanly), urge to, ( _Dammit!_ _What's wrong_ _with me_?) Snuggle, (An' if I _ever_ hear myself say that word out loud, I swear I'll cut out my own tongue!), into his brother. His _brother_! Sam! The same Sam who, more and more often of late, appeared either unable or unwilling to stop, listen and learn from the chaos he seemed determined to cause. He was stubbornly on a crusade of his own making, refusing to pause for long enough to recognise that his repeated behaviour, actions and oh so many genius ideas, were getting people hurt or, as was the case on this occasion, dead.

Only this time, the victim of Sam's near obsession, was sweet Charlie...

Charlie hadn't deserved to die like she did, didn't deserve what Sam had dragged her into. But she had cared about them both and so, kind hearted as she was, Charlie had agreed to try to help. Whilst Sam had looked shocked when he saw her body, afterwards he'd had next to nothing to say, and Dean sensed that even being responsible for Charlie's death wasn't about to stop his brother looking for the next "big idea", no matter how loud and how often Dean said _No_! It was almost as if Sam didn't care who else got hurt, like he was viewing anyone who got caught up in things as collateral damage. Dean wondered if Sam had even considered the fact that Charlie's death was on him?

Lying in his bed, sleep refusing to give him any respite, Dean prayed Sam never had the misfortune to find himself confronted by _anything_ like the internal volcano of rage that had instantly blazed into life within Dean on seeing what was left of Charlie. His fury (although less heated now, it was still felt, still there), had danced eagerly, desperate to be set free, to be let loose to sizzle and burn into it's target...Into Sam.

It had taken a supreme effort on Dean's behalf, but he hadn't _dared_ let his emotions fly. It was a rage born out of instinct; it's nature activated, inspired and driven by Dean's own hunger and need for family. And to him, Charlie _was_ family. Irrespective that she hadn't been born a Winchester. Dean had very quickly come to love the young woman just as much as he would have if she _had_ been his little sister. And now she was dead. Killed by a savage monster after Sam had yet again ignored Dean's expressed wishes, and roped Charlie into helping him try to rid Dean of the Mark. Having left her unsupported and without any nearby backup, Sam might as well have killed her himself!

Almost forgotten words formed unbidden in Dean's mind.

 _"You've gotta save Sammy,_ _if not, you might have to kill him."_

-oOo-


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

-o-

In the barely there light of first dawn, the only sounds were the plaintive song of a feathered soloist paying tribute to the new day before heralding in the rest of the dawn chorus, and his brother's steady breathing signalling he was still sound asleep, helped no doubt by the amount of Bourbon he had drunk during the movie. Having given up on any kind of sleep, Dean lie still, gazing thoughtfully across at the other bed, and the dark shape that was the bedcovers tangled over and around the younger Winchester. He had very nearly settled on the conclusion that this was not entirely the _right_ Sam, that there was something seriously wrong with or about him. Dean simply couldn't understand how little remorse Sam had so far shown about Charlie's death, it just didn't sit right, and Dean couldn't help but wonder...

Had Sammy, in reality, ever actually managed to overcome the dark part of himself? That tainted stain bestowed on him by the scum yellow eyed daemon, or the memory and effect of the bitch Ruby's daemon blood? And what about the cage? What if Sam had left something of himself behind besides his since recovered soul? Was there some small part of his brother that was still lost back there? How would it be if Sam had one taste of daemon blood again? Would he be fine? Or would all his past cravings immediately return? Had _he_ in fact, succeeded in saving his baby brother? Or, at some specific point during the past seven years had he, like a complete moron, missed that crucial moment? Had he been sidetracked by some chick's delightfully bouncing... _Curls_...And been looking the other away right when he _should_ have been stepping up and saving Sammy? Dean shivered, unsettled by his train of thought, but unable to apply the breaks.

What if, as past experiences appeared to prove, it was always the _evil_ part inside that ultimately took control? If that held true, should his Sammy still be here? Should he still be living? Or, could the only reason Sammy _was_ still around be solely because he was family? _No_. It _couldn't_ be! There _had_ to be more to it than that, (didn't there?). _Numb-nuts!_...Of _course_ there had to be more. This was _Sammy_! Not Lenora who tried so hard to be more than a monster, and failed. Or Amy who had promised him she was going back to ignoring her inner monster, right before he shoved a blade into her. And what about Emma, who _had_ been linked to him by blood? Would there have been any chance for her, if she'd been willing to take it?

As dawn's light turned to indigo, Dean found it increasingly hard not to question Sam's motivation in stubbornly and repeatedly ignoring his order to drop it, stop looking for a way to banish the Mark of Cain _. Hell_ ; neither of them had the smallest clue what might happen to Dean if Sam was successful! Dean hadn't overlooked the irony inherent in Sam's doing what _he_ thought was best, irrelevant whether or not it was what Dean himself wanted. Sam _can't_ have missed the similarity between his current actions and Dean's own refusal to accept Sam's readiness to die, instead conning Sam into being a hired suit for an angel? His anger at Dean's disregard for his decision, and the way he responded to Dean, had effectively sliced Dean apart like no monster, angel, daemon, devil or fellow Hunter had ever been able to do. And yet here was Sam, showing his own complete disregard for _Dean's_ wishes!

Dean's body stiffened.

Was it possible that the motivation for Sam's current actions was nothing more than old fashioned revenge? A way of getting back at his older brother for not letting Sam finally have the peace he had so wanted? Dean quickly attempted to retract the thought and bury it. _No_! No _way_ Sammy'd do that! It would be, ( _Monstrous_?), ridiculous! He _had_ to be simply reacting to the threat of the mark on Dean? Sammy wouldn't have let some dumb-ass revenge gig put other people at risk; would he?

Dean's pulse increased in line with his heart rate as his thoughts appeared to come full circle.

Just how many times had it been Sammy himself who represented the threat to Dean? It was actually a struggle to recall, and his attempts to do so turned out to be like adding a handful of dry wood chippings and a puff of air to the glowing embers that were left from his previous fury, causing it to glow hotter again, spitting and crackling around a new flame. The question he had already asked himself returned... _Have I missed the moment?_

Sam murmured, shifting onto his back in his sleep, and Dean found himself focusing on the profile of the man he had played such a huge part in raising.

 _Could there still be time to put things right? There had to be. He just needed to figure out how to finally save his brother, and what from? Himself? On the other hand, if it really was too late, then had he, Dean Winchester, inadvertently let the greatest monster of them all continue to live? And was it currently sleeping peacefully in the very next bed?_

-oOo-


	3. Chapter 3

Final part to this episode tag. Thank you for favouriting, reviewing or just reading - Enjoy!  
P.S. Don't forget to check out the Season 11 preview at the end of this chapter ;p  
THREE  
-o-

The sudden shock at his own thoughts was like a lake of freezing water being scooped up and dropped over his newly re-ignited anger, instantly killing it. Dean quickly sat up in his bed. Swinging his legs over the side he put both feet to the floor and, breathing heavily, stared down at them whilst waiting for his breathing to calm down once more, and until he felt able to trust that his legs had the strength enough to hold him steady. Automatically he headed for the coffee maker in the kitchenette, only to pause once there, his desires in conflict. He found himself wanting at the same time to both slip out of the motel room and leave, and yet also to stay and to test himself, (and Sam?). If he remained here, around Sam, he would be able to prove to himself that he _wasn't_ about to kill his baby brother; that Sam was in no danger from him, ( _hopefully_ ).

And Sammy was, wasn't he?...Safe? _Jerk_! Of _course_ his brother was safe. There was no reason for him to potentially have to face killing Sammy anymore because he'd done it; he had already succeeded in _saving_ his brother, (hadn't he?). Pressing one fist against his forehead, Dean frowned heavily. If only he could remember where the moment had occurred, or how it happened? Exactly when _had_ he saved his brother in the way his dad had meant? Once upon a time, he had believed that when he gifted himself to Hell, _that_ was "the moment". It was the greatest sacrifice he thought he could offer back then. But later, when he was brought back, it seemed it hadn't been great enough. Sure, it brought Sammy back to life; but while he was having fun times in Hell, what a balls-up Sam was making of the life Dean had bought for him! Throughout Dean's years as a Hunter, he had taken countless hits in his determination to keep Sam safe and out of harms way; but they were just day-to-day Hunting accidents. None of them could qualify as "the moment". He'd also managed to stop Sam from completing the three trials, wrestled him right from under Death's nose and allowed a lying Angel scumbag to ride his brother piggy back, (and oh boy! Did he suffer for _that_ one). But he wasn't sure anymore if these, or any of the other instances, could count as being _the_ one time. That moment when his decision would either completely condemn, or _truly_ save Sam.

 _So, Could there be time still? Was that particular moment when he had to choose, still waiting for him?_ And if it was, when he finally came to it, which way would he go? Would Charlie's death and Sam's low-key response suddenly come to mind? And if it did, could it influence his decision?...Would he _allow_ it to?

"Dean? You here?... _Dee_...?"

Dean closed his eyes. Calling from his bed, his brother's voice was hesitant, uncertain, afraid even; and Dean felt that familiar need to respond, to go reassure him, and to chase all the fear far away. This time though, there was something else was tagging along, a new thought, a new and awful consideration that wasn't about to let itself be ignored...Maybe, he had a second job he was meant to do? Maybe he was also supposed to protect _other_ people from Sam?...At least until the day came when he, Dean _does-it-say-"mug"-on-my-forehead_ Winchester finally, (and knowingly), came to "the moment", the time when everything narrowed down to his ultimate decision...To save or to kill the brother he loved beyond all others, had done since the day Sammy was born and they had first locked eyes on one another, unknowingly planting the seeds of a bond that would grow and be there for the rest of their lives, even when they didn't particularly like each other.

"Dean...?"

As ever, Sam had sensed the quiet presence of his brother. Dean answered, trying to keep his voice at a normal level, wanting Sam's anxiety to drop a few notches.

"In here Sammy. Where else would I have gone? Other than to pick up breakfast obviously? Oh, an' about that. Sorry about supper dude. Didn't realise how crap it was till I got back. I'll make it up to you with breakfast...Hey, ah, Sammy?...I need to ask you somethin'...Ah...Yeah, I've made fresh coffee... _Um_...You want me to bring you one over?"

"Oh...Yeah, _sure_...Um...Are you...? I mean...Are _we_ ok?..."

"Honestly? No. Not really...What happened? I need time to think things through, adjust I guess...An' I assume it must've been harsh on you too? Seein' Charlie's body like that? _Was it_?"

Dean heard the muttered _Oh, crap_! Then nothing but the occasional chug from the coffee maker. Dean raised his eyes to heaven, silently chastising himself, berating himself. _Why did you have to go an' put it like that? Friggin' moron!_

"Sammy?...You fallen back asleep on me out there?"

His sharp hearing caught the sound of Sam taking a deep breath before answering, and Dean could tell that his brother was fighting to keep his pitch something close to normal.

"No. I mean...Yes...You're right, it _was, really_ harsh and...I know you don't really wanna hear anythin' from me...But I need...

Still staying out of Sam's line of sight in the kitchenette, Dean shook his head.

"Don't...Some day I'll be ready to listen; maybe."

Dean heard the catch in Sam's breathing, knew the younger man was trying to hold on, stop himself from falling apart, and Dean was grateful for it. Grateful for the sign that his Sammy _was_ feeling something about Charlie's murder. Surely, even though nothing else seemed to have got through Sam's rock solid skull, her pointless death would? _It_ _ **had**_ _to, the price was too steep,_ _ **way**_ _too steep for nothin' good, nothin' good at_ _ **all**_ _to come from it._

Dean took a deep breath. Talking like this, in different rooms, without his brother gawking at him with those sorrowful eyes of his, was easier.

"Sammy?"

Sam raised his head and looked in the direction of the kitchenette, surprised and, if he had to confess, relieved to hear Dean use the kiddy version of his name.

"Yeah?"

"I, er...Look, I didn't get much sleepin' done last night. Felt like I did an awful lot of thinkin' though, mostly about Charlie...But, well, about you as well, and us. Our life, or lives. I know I've said it before, but what with the mark an' all? You know. Anyway, I need to say stuff, so's I know for sure you've heard it, an' know I mean it, whatever happens from here on in, whatever I say in future, whatever...Whatever I might do...Ok?"

Heart pounding, Sam nodded, forgetting Dean couldn't see him. Dean took the silence as Sam's ok anyway.

"See, I really need you to know I'm sorry, for _everythin'_ Sammy. Everythin' goin' back to when I broke into your place at college and dragged you into lendin' me a hand. When I was first drivin' us away from there? It never occurred to me I was driving you away from friends, from opportunities, from the woman you'd loved, an' from the kinda life you'd always wanted. You were right, back when you called me selfish? It _was_ all about what _I_ wanted, an' that was _you_ , with me, helping to look for dad. All the stuff we've...? Chances are, none of it would've happened if I'd left you there, like I should've. Think about it Sammy! All those people we cared about? Maybe they'd all still be around if only...I swear Sam, I'll never stop hatin' myself for takin' all that away from you bro'...

Devastated by the words, Sam couldn't just let them go by.

"Dean, stop it! I've told you before, it's ok. You've no reason to apologise, or to feel bad. If you hadn't come for me back then? There's a lot of good things, good _people_ , we would never have known or had in our lives. An' that includes Castiel."

"Right. Yeah. And _I_ wouldn't have had to hold you while you died, neither of us would've had the pleasure of gettin' to know Hell or Lucifer, _you'd_ still believe angels were a bunch of harp playing, cloud riding, dressin' gown wearin', asexual hippies. Purgatory could've gone to Hell; Charlie would still; be a LARP Queen, an' _I_ wouldn't care that we never _did_ find out what friggin' " _bibbing_ " was!"

Dean's volume suddenly dropped, so much so that Sam had to strain to hear his next words.

"An' Bobby...Sammy?... _He'd_ still be here for us..."

"Dean, _please_...Don't..."

"No...I need...Let me finish, will you? _Jeeze!_ You _know_ how much I hate this stuff, an' _you!_ You _constantly_ chew my ear out for _not_ talkin' then, when I try? You can't keep your pie-hole shut an' just _listen_! You really are a pain in the ass little brother, you know that?"

Sam bowed his head. He could almost _hear_ Dean shutting the lid back down on his emotions, turning the key to lock everything up tight again, and forcing the sound of raw pain to leave his voice.

"Forget it. Feels like I'm done anyhow. I've about said all I wanted to say so lets drop it. I really need some space to try gettin' my head around what's happened, an' I've a Hunter's funeral to set up for Charlie. She's more than earned it...Sammy?"

There was a pause whilst Dean quietly waited for his brother to answer. When he did, Sam's tone was reluctant, and it sounded to Dean like he was only being granted an intermission.

"Ok...Fine, we'll leave it for now."

Dean sighed wearily, a tangled up line from an old movie scrolling through his head. _This shit's gettin' too old for me!_

"Dean? There's a couple of things...

"Of course there is. Go on. What?"

"First off? Please come out the kitchen so's I can see you? It kinda feels like I really _am_ talkin' to a brick wall!"

"Huh! Know _that_ feelin'!"

Dean strolled slowly over to the kitchenette's entrance, leaning himself up against the door frame he shoved both hands in his jeans' pockets and gazed calmly at his brother. Looking back at him, it was clear to Sam that Dean hadn't managed very much, if _any_ , sleep during the night. He decided to extend their booking to the following day, give Dean a chance to rest up before the funeral and while Dean rested, he himself could take the opportunity and make the calls he needed to.

"This better?"

Sam gave a small smile of affection from where he was sat up in his bed.

"Better."

"Good...What else?"

Sam's expression became serious, at the same time Dean saw that he looked more relaxed, less wary than he had the previous night.

"I'd really like to help, you know, with Charlie?...If that's ok with you?"

Dean's own expression didn't alter in any way, maintaining the calm, steady gaze in Sam's direction.

"I'll have to get back to you."

-oOo-

 **END  
** Chick xx

 **SEASON 11** (totally fake **) PREVIEW**

The hottest Hunters in town are back in a new series. After Dean mysteriously decided to kill his pal Death, and the glowy Mark of Cain thingy was cured by bitch witch & Crowley's mummy, Rowena; the world was plunged into darkness. Now the guys face the biggest crisis of their Hunting careers, as millions of teenagers find they can't log onto their social media sites, risking having to actually speak face to face. Or they might've done, if anybody had been able to see anybody else through the dark. Our two heroes quickly discover torchlight doesn't cut through cosmic darkness, and so begins their search for God's light switch. Due to the unlikely popularity of sitting staring at a black TV screen, Season 11 is heading your way THIS OCTOBER...as a radio play.

-oOo-


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